


tools of the trade

by makiyakinabe



Category: Joker Game (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials Fusion, Dæmons, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 21:27:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6583204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makiyakinabe/pseuds/makiyakinabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sakuma doesn't think he'll ever understand them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tools of the trade

Ichiko's hackles would rise without fail the moment they set foot in the so-called Greater East Asia Cultural Society.

"Those men are monsters," she'd growl even as she trots alongside Sakuma, a living embodiment of docility and violence. "Can't you feel it?" 

Sakuma can. Although the sheer sense of wrongness rolling off Yuki's eight star pupils has less to do with the fear emanating from Ichiko's end of their bond—a rush of cold that sets deep in his bones—and more to do with the knowledge of Yuki's brutal training regiment he's been unwilling privy to, as a liaison between the General Staff Office and D Agency.

The men are given false identities to put on and shrug off as one would a winter coat. False names, false birthdates, false pasts that they'd live with for anything from a day to ten whole years.

That abyss of pitch-black isolation they've embraced with their whole being—

Just thinking about it makes Sakuma's skin crawl.

But worse is the fact that, while professional actors also make their living switching roles at a drop of a hat, _they don't switch their_   _dæmons even once_.

The men have different dæmons by their sides every time Sakuma and Ichiko sees them. One day Miyoshi would have an ermine hanging from his shoulder and on the next, a dachshund paddling after him, surprisingly fast for a creature with such short legs—while the very same ermine is curled up on Jitsui's head, seemingly fast asleep. And so it goes.

There's no sign whatsoever of a connection between man and dæmon: none of the men ever look towards the dæmons they had days before for reassurance, the way Sakuma catches himself doing with Ichiko at times before they enter Lieutenant Colonel Yuki's office as one. The dæmons, in turn, are perfectly content to ignore the men they'd been paired with days prior and submit to the touches of other men—while the very idea makes his Ichiko bristle.

To these men, a dæmon is just another disposable fragment of persona.

 

* * *

 

In spite of himself, Sakuma keeps an eye out for hints at a remnant shred of their humanity: eyes lighting up more often when paired with a particular dæmon in an unconscious display of relief. Smirks softening into something more genuine, a sure-fire sign of gladness at being reunited at last. Hands moving much more slowly when stroking a dæmon, lingering on their fur or scales or feathers, taking their slow time to commit the sensation to memory—

_Anything at all—_

The men shoot him indulgent looks and smirks whenever he does this.

"A commendable effort, Sakuma-san," says Miyoshi during one such attempt, with a careless shrug, "albeit a rather pointless one. Suzuran here—" Miyoshi gestures at his dæmon of the day, a dragonfly delicately resting on his dress shirt collar in near-perfect mimicry of a bejewelled pin— "is no more mine than Yuriko, Momoka, Ayame and Hana were."

The dæmons, a crow perched on Odagiri's shoulder, a cat curled up on Kaminaga's lap, a raccoon dog sitting by the edge of the pool table beside Amari and a snake coiled around Hatano's forearm resectively, lift and tilt their heads towards Sakuma out of politeness before returning to what is rapidly becoming a favourite pastime amongst the dæmons of the spies: a multi-way staredown at a visibly cross Ichiko.

Sakuma rests a hand on Ichiko's neck, soft fingers running through her fur as every other man in the recreation room looks on in vague interest. The sense of calm washing over them both with every stroke of his fingers, Sakuma doubts it can be replicated with any other dæmon but his own.

"One of them must be," Sakuma insists. "All of you share the same twelve dæmons."

"Is that so."

Frowning, Sakuma opens his mouth, ready to demand Miyoshi to stop being so needlessly cryptic, when Ichiko nudges her nose against Sakuma's hand.

Belatedly, Sakuma realizes how still the room has become. Miyoshi's been idly twirling the same chess piece in his hand for who knows how long, his game with Kaminaga seemingly forgotten. Odagiri has lowered the book he's been reading. Amari leans against the pool table, his arms crossed and cue stick in hand. Hatano, having taken a stray chair to sit backwards in, is now drumming his fingers against the rail.

"I noticed," Sakuma says, a touch defensive. "I see them all the time. None of you go anywhere without your—whoever's—dæmons."

Miyoshi lifts an eyebrow.

"You're _confirming the consequent_ , Sakuma-san."

Miyoshi's voice is pleasant and measured as always, not one inflection out of place, but it grates on Sakuma's ears all the same. His remark—with its superflous use of English terminology Sakuma's never even heard of—is just as infuriating.

Disdain hiding behind a smiling face, deceit fitting him to a T: that man is the sum of everything Sakuma dislikes about spies.

Sakuma's eyes flit to the glass display box on Miyoshi's side of the table, left open a ways from the small gathering of chess pieces taken from Kaminaga. The dragonfly, now perched on the top edge of the lid, lazily flaps its wings—Sakuma doesn't know how, but he gets the distinct impression that the dæmon is laughing at him.

The frown on Sakuma's face deepens. "I don't understand what you meant by that," he says flatly. "What am I _confirming_? Can't you speak plainly for once, Miyoshi?"

"Sakuma-san. I advise you to let this matter rest."

Sakuma turns to Odagiri in disbelief. "Let it _rest?_ What for, so all of you can carry on being mysterious for mystery's sake? What's the point in that?"

"What's the matter?" asks Yuki's voice from behind Sakuma.

Sakuma jumps to attention.

 

* * *

 

Honestly, Sakuma doesn't know who he should be wary of more: these monsters who treat their souls as mere accessory, or their demon king who's seemingly done away with his altogether.

**Author's Note:**

> I keep getting the sense that something's missing but ~~what is it??? idk~~
> 
> Miyoshi is _such_ a scene-stealer. At first this was just going to be Sakuma Freaking Out: The Fic but the moment Miyoshi opened his mouth the plan went flying out the window /o\

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Tsukumogami (The Subtle Knife Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12047487) by [Gramarye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gramarye/pseuds/Gramarye)




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